Silhouettes

It's so hard letting go

I'm finally at peace, but it feels wrong

slow I'm getting up

My hands and feet are weaker than before

And you are folded on the bed

Where I rest my head

There's nothing I can see

Darkness becomes me

"Stiles." Lydia exhaled faintly. She was pleasantly surprised by his appearance. Stiles looked up at her and painfully swallowed. She had to admit—something about him was different, what though, she couldn't place her finger on it.

He didn't say anything—didn't greet her in some witty, sarcastic way, didn't smile, didn't put any effort into his acknowledgment of her what so ever. "What's wrong?" She quickly asked forgetting she was speaking to a person neither the Sheriff nor Scott could see. Both of them turned their gazes in her direction, confusion ran through their faces.

Scott even gave her a questionable look. "What?" He asked faintly. Lydia took a quick breath and let go of the wolf's arm, straightening herself out. "Nothing—sorry." She swiftly apologized taking her gaze off Stiles' figure behind his father.

God Lydia—use your mind. She cursed at herself mentally.

Her eyes meet Stiles' once more as Scott who was recently by her side, took a step closer to the bed-taking in the image of his best friend laying broken on the hospital bed.

"He's like this again." Stiles mumbled subconsciously, his eyes casted on his father. He didn't know what it was—but there was this certain feel that overcame him as he examined the Sheriff. It was like he could slowly feel him slipping again. Stiles backed up in utter panic, his arms raised halfway up in some sort of surrender as he felt another panic attack creep up his spine from all the overwhelming wave of emotions he kept bottled up inside. Lydia never took her eyes off they boy as she watched him struggle with reality. She just didn't know what to do.

"This can't be happening." He continued exclaiming in distraught. As the reality slowly hit him, he began to approached his father.

What do you mean, he's like that again? Lydia asked after a few puzzling moments in her mind. But instead of answering Stiles swallowed, and continued to look down at his father shaking his head repeatedly as if he was in some sort of denial. He slowly took another step back and tired to collect himself—but it was getting hard to, his sanity was slowly slipping by the second. "Th-this cant be happening again." He coked out, there was an overwhelming, crushing, fear that ran through his body as he remembered how his father was in the early days of his childhood. The days after his mother had died.

Happening again? Stiles, what are you talking about?

"Him," He nearly choked out. The boy ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous wreck, hoping it would somehow clear his head, and he took another step back, colliding with the wall he didn't even notice was there in the first place.

"A-after my mom died... I-I didn't just lose her," Stiles began to explain—Lydia's breath was suddenly cut off at the mention of his mother. He never talked to anybody about her—not even Scott. The topic of this mother was like this sacred ground where only where only a few trust were allowed to talk about.

"Dad?" Stiles asked, his breath almost overcoming him. Lydia took a good look at him, he looked almost insane—the way his eyes widened with the longing desire to be able to communicate with his father. It was like he was stuck in some sort of crazed trance; begging for his father's acknowledgement. Stiles then walked around the chair the Sheriff was sitting in and stopped when he was right in front of him, face to face.

Stiles?

"Dad? Dad, I'm right here!" He pointed to himself in frustration as his eyes began to uncontrollably water. "—that—that's not me!" Stiles explained referring to his body on the hospital bed. But his father saw right through him. With every syllable Stiles shouted, Lydia flinched—it was just as painful to witness this as it was for him.

Stiles, stop. He can't—

"Dad look at me!" But the Sheriff just sat there unaffected by the teenage boy waving his arms in front of his face. "Dad, please." Stiles swallowed, he was slowly begging to lose hope, his voice becoming noticeably broken, he could barely go on. The green-eyed girl saw tears fall down his face—eyes turn bloodshot red, his hands, trembling as fear overtook his emotions, driving him almost insane in a matter of seconds.

He ran a shaking hand sloppily throughout his hair once more and took another step back bumping into the hospital bed int he process. As he turned to see what he hit, he gasped—not being able to take in a proper breath. It was when he saw his body, laying as if he was dead to world on that bed, that he completely lost it—his vision blurred a little and he couldn't see straight.

Stiles! Lydia shouted in her head as some sort of attempt to ground him, but before she could get one more syllable out he was running out the door.

"I-I have t-to go." Lydia then spoke aloud to the two men in the room. Scott gave her a weird look as she made her untimely exit, but didn't give any thought to it other than she might be freaked out. Little did he know it was much more than that. Lydia couldn't just let Stiles take off-she had to do something. So out the door she ran, looking for any trace of the panicked boy.

She paced down the corridor she saw him take a left at the end of, but when she was about to make her turn—he was gone. Stiles?! She shouted in her head.

Stiles, where are you? ...Stiles, please. She pleaded, but got no response. Then, right at the very end of the hall she saw a door close, there was no one else around, so it had to be him. Lydia ran up to the door which had a sign next to it, telling her it was a stairway, and swung it open, finding a shaky Stiles sitting on the steps going down, his face cover by one of his hands. He was trying so hard no to panic, not to let go of the only sanity he had left in him. But it was hard—it was too damn hard when he didn't having anything—anyone to ground him.

Lydia approached him rather slowly, was examined the state he was in then quickly addressed the situation. Stiles didn't notice the strawberry blonde until she sat down and peered over at him gently. She was afraid to make any sudden movements, thinking it might scare him off. "Stiles?" She asked as she put a hand on his arm. She leaned in grabbed his other hand forcing him look up at her. But he didn't want to—he didn't want her to see him like this.

So broken, so damaged.

This wasn't the Stiles he wanted her to see. Cause he knew, once she saw him like this—there'd be no turning back. They'd never be the same again.

But still, Lydia was stubborn, and strong, she wouldn't let him get away that fast. "Stiles listen to me okay? Breathe…" She spoke softly guided. To him every syllable that came from her lips sounded like the voice of an angel—one he couldn't help but listen to.

Their eyes met, and when she saw him she swore she could hear the sound of her own heart breaking. His were eyes bloodshot red, and his hands were uncontrollably shaking. "I-I can't stop." He whispered softly. Lydia said nothing, she nodded in acceptance and let go of his right arm seeing he was getting a little better. "Do you want a repeat of last time?" She asked with a small smile.

Stiles couldn't help but bring the corners of his mouth upright into a tiny yet genuine simper. "Will it count if I'm not real?" He managed out, but Lydia quickly shook her head in disagreement. "You're real." She said with such certainty it almost made Stiles believe her. "I can see you," She began as she scooted backwards to take a good look at him, then moved back. "I can hear you." She turned her head at an angle she knew Stiles adored, and leaned so close their faces where inches apart. He could feel the atmosphere in the room heating quickly as she got closer. Lydia raised her hand and set it on the outline of his jaw, her finger curved around his cheek. "I can feel you." She mumbled softly just enough for him to hear her.

Stiles' eyes never felt hers, he could feel the radiant warmth of her body temperature against his and without a warning, he instantly felt better. His heartbeat began to pace it's self, his hands quit shaking, and he could slowly but surely take in larger amounts of air. He was in control.

"H-how'd you do that?" He asked now with a clear head.

Lydia gave him a genuine smile, their faces were still inches apart. "Well, how did it work last time?" She asked so faintly her voice was a bit scratchy. "I-I held my breath didn't I?" He asked after a moment of realization. And Lydia quickly nodded. "You did." She ended.

They remained that way for a few seconds before the concept of time struck Lydia and she broke her gaze on him then quickly stood up, dusting off her dress in the process. "We should—we should get back—well, I should." She said. Stiles nodded in agreement as he followed the strawberry blond off the staircase. "Y-yeah."

…

It had now been a couple hours since the incident in the stairway and they were all back in Stiles' hospital room waiting anxiously to see if anything were to happen.

"You can't let him do this again." Stiles declared; his eyes setting on his father once more. He was now much more relaxed, but the thought of his father turning back to his old ways was a nightmare for him. He couldn't just sit there and watch him fall apart. Lydia watched Stiles as he was gazing down at the Sheriff like he was constantly searching for something—something he knew he knew wasn't possible.

Okay, just… tell me what to do.

"Tell…" He paused for a moment as he thought. "tell him what happened, t-talk to him—don't let him succumb to his silence…" He explained. "My father's a logical man Lydia, just like you. All he needs is for all this to make sense... just don't let him get the way he used to be..."

"He needs to understand that what happened with my mom isn't going to happen here." He continued, his shoulders sulking, his eyes drooping to the floor. That wasn't a subject he enjoyed talking about. Lydia nodded, making it look as if it were to herself.

"He needs to understand that I'll—I'll be okay." He said with a little imbalanced certainty.

Okay.

"Wha-er... What are you staring at?" Scott asked uncomfortably making Lydia snap out of her trace. She made a slight caught by surprise jump then straightened herself out once more, clearing her head in the process.

"Uh," She puffed out softly, turning back around to face Scott. "T-there was bug on the wall, it was bothering me." She said as if it was the most obvious thing, even as she spoke them, her words tasted bitter. Stiles let out a small half hearted smile when he heard her say this; it was almost like they were back to normal. "Nice one." He commented.

Scott gave her a funny look but by the expression on his face he quickly dropped it and focused his attention on his best friend. "D-did my mom say anything..?" He asked out loud, but to Lydia it was clear he was speaking to the Sheriff. It took Stiles' dad about a minute to respond, it might not seem like a lot to most people, but a full 60 seconds of silence and anticipation was strange considering who Scott was talking to.

"Yeah," The Sheriff began, he cleared his rugged throat for a moment then continued. "well, being your mother, she told me to go home and shower… she also said his vitals are good and he's stable… then she—she said something about that I can't quite wrap my mind around yet," He said that part under his breath hoping they wouldn't catch it. But they did. "She said he could uh, wake any minute." This came out rather optimistically for the Sheriff. The three turned to Stiles on the bed and gazed at him as if they were expecting something to happen any moment.

"Well I'm still here." Stiles exhaled and shrugged from the back. Lydia just eyed him sadly and gave him a nod that both the Sheriff and Scott didn't catch.

Hopefully that'll change soon.

…

After the Sheriff came back from freshening himself up, Scott suggested Lydia do the same, however, she refused. But Scott actually had a point, she was still wearing the same dress and jean jacket she had when they were taken two days ago, her hair was a tangled mess, and although she probably stunk from not having a proper shower in two days, she didn't have the heart leave just yet.

"Lydia, go. You can't just sit here all day like that." Scott pleaded with a gentle tone. But Lydia wouldn't have it. "I'm not leaving Scott, quit wasting your time… wh-what if he wakes up and I'm not here?" She asked softly almost not believing she had said that out loud. In her perspective, she had basically professed her love for him. But Scott was pretty much clueless and didn't make anything of it.

She didn't want to leave, she didn't want to let Stiles face this all alone. She just couldn't. No one knew what had gone down while they were in that cold basement, at least not yet. And she wanted to keep it that way, for now.

"I'm not going to wake up Lydia, go home." Stiles said in a serious tone from where he leaned against the wall. Lydia gave him a quick annoyed glance then turned back to Scott.

"Can we talk? Outside?" Scott asked as he stood off his seat and offered her his hand, a sign of peace. Lydia was annoyed in his behavior but his tone was filled with urgency, so she got off the chair, refusing his hand and walked outside the door.

"Lydia you can't stay like this this—" "Why?" By that time she was enraged, didn't he understand she just wanted to be left alone? "—because," He took a step closer to her, so that the next thing that came out of his mouth was between them two. "Stiles' blood is on your dress, and his father is in there." He said in a low voice. Lydia took a moment to process that now looking down at herself. And like he had said, a giant dark red portion of her navy blue floral dress was soaked in blood; Stiles' blood. She hadn't even noticed.

The strawberry blond took a step back, now fully understanding the reasoning behind the alpaha's actions.

"I'll take you home." Scott said softly.

…

The two teens walked back to the waiting room where the rest of the gang remained. As they approached them, Allison, quickly followed by Isaac then Derek, stood up. It was Scott who spoke first. "You guys can go in, if you want. I'm gonna take Lydia home… but we'll be back soon," His head turned as he saw his mother pass by the front desk. "hold on a minute," Scott said as he rushed towards her.

"Mom, I need the keys to the—" Melissa turned around to face her son, her eyes were red, but she wore a smile on her face and sniffed. She obviously had been crying. "Yeah, uh you need the car?" She asked pretending nothing was wrong.

Scott approached her, he rested a hand on her arm, as she warped her arms around herself. "Mom, What's wrong?" He asked, this sense of protectiveness took over him as he examined her. She seemed to physically fine—but something was defiantly wrong.

"W-what do you mean? I'm fine." She said with an endearing frown. But Scott wouldn't have it, and he continued to push her. "Mom, you're not fooling anyone…" He exhaled, that was when Melissa turned her head away, trying desperately to take control of her emotions and keep them in check. She had to make sure she looked put together and okay so they wouldn't send her home. And if her own 17 year old son could tell there was something wrong, she wasn't doing a good enough job.

"I-I… I'm just—" She tried explaining, tried getting out of the situation whatever way she could. But it was useless. She knew that no matter how hard she tried she wouldn't get past Scott and his werewolf senses. Scott watched her struggle for a moment, trying to explain, but this was only it making it worse.

So he the only thing he knew what to do. He wrapped his arms around her frame and brought her close to him, hoping somehow his support would make her feel better. It did, at first, and then it didn't. Being in her son's embrace only reminded her of the events that occurred in the trauma room. And a fresh wave of tears overtook her body.

Stiles' was like a son to her. A stupid, foolish, immature, witty, loving, and smart, son to her. And she made a promise to his mother long ago she would take care of him—that she would never let anything happen to him. And look at him now, just another promise broken.

"I-I can take Lydia home," Allison whispered to Scott as she approached them. They had all seen what had happened, and it was obvious that Scott couldn't leave his mother alone in her time of need. The alpha gave a small nod of approval and after watching the two girls leave, buried the side of his face into his mother's hair.

"Come on, lets go find some place to sit." He said, pulling out of their hug. Melissa nodded and sniffed as she whipped her tears with her shaky finger. "Okay."

…

"You take a shower, I'm gonna go grab us some dinner. You want anything in particular?" Allison asked leaning against the frame of Lydia's room. The strawberry blond shook her head as she took her jean jacket and laid it on the bed. "Not really, just something warm."

Allison nodded noticing her best friends unusual behavior. But as she thought about it, it should be usual, or at least expected from what she went throughout the past couple of days. It wasn't like she was going to go back to normal the minute she got home—no, that would take time.

"It's good to have you back." Allison then continued was a small smile plastered to her face. Lydia nodded, looking up at her best friend. She wanted so desperately to feel happy, to feel safe enough to show off a genuine smile but she wasn't. "It feels good to be back." She admitted in a soft mumble.

"Does it?" The brunette asked truthfully after a moment, she watched as the strawberry blond froze at her question, her eyes fell to the floor where she was standing. She had been lying, and she had been caught. "Cause the way you've been acting—is something else going on?"

Silence over took the atmosphere in the bedroom, but it only lasted a few moments before it became unbearable and Allison spoke out.

"It's just me Lydia, you can talk to me." She reassured her.

After a few seconds Lydia gazed back up at her best friend. "I know, I just—" Her voice came out shaky, and unexpected. She had been so busy with trying to calm Stiles and whatever he was, that she barely had any time to take care of herself, to let herself catch up and react to all that was happening.

"I…" She had nothing to say. How could she explain what she had seen, what she was going through, what she wished, when she couldn't herself. Lydia knew her thoughts were illogical, but she wished they were back in that moldy, crap basement, because everything made sense in there.

Stiles was unharmed, they were captured by a group of hunters the Argent family had no ties to, and they knew what they needed to do to survive. To Lydia, it was kind of like a sick, twisted game of supply and demand; something she had studied and mastered in government class. They knew that if they gave the information about Derek and the pack's location, they were given freedom—or at least that's what the man had promised.

But now, everything was a mess, and almost nothing made sense anymore. She could somehow see Stiles as he experienced some weird out of body thing, and he had somehow miraculously survived after being dead for hours, with the help of Deaton. "I want nothing more than to be back in that basement." Lydia announced unexpectedly. Allison quickly frowned in confusion, she shook her head and began to say something but the strawberry blond cut her off. "Everything applied to logic in there," Lydia let out.

"everything made sense."

The tall brunette looked down at her best friend, her confused expression dropped to one of disbelieve and sorrow. "Lydia—" Lydia's head shot up and she meet Allison in the eyes, she seemed to snap out of whatever trance she was trapped in. "Now I don't make sense hu?" She with a smile on her face. But Allison wasn't smiling, she just nodded sadly and looked into the eyes of her broken, scarred best friend, hoping somehow everything will turn around for the better.

"No… y-you make perfect sense." The brunette said clearly, understanding Lydia's reasoning.

…

"I just cou—I-I… he was just lying there…" Melissa explained. "… he was just laying t-there… dead—he was—" Melissa scrambled her words almost not making sense. Scott watched helplessly as she struggled to put into words what had happened and the reasons behind her behavior as of that moment. "dead…" She breathed out in exasperation.

"Mom," Scott exhaled patiently and he placed his hand over hers that lay on the table. They were currently taking cover in a small family conference room. "Stiles, he's okay," As soon as those words escaped his mouth his mother opened hers to correct him, but he caught it before she said anything he cut her off; only to prevent her from doing any more emotional damage to herself than she already had.

"He's fine… he's alive." He continued. "And that's because of you... you did that."

Melissa nodded, but the mention that Stiles was alive was the one that shattered her calm and cool state. She quickly placed her other elbow on the table and forced her head into it. She didn't want her own kid to watch her shed any more tears. "Oh god." She sobbed as the haunting memories from that morning came back once again. "I-I th-thought he was gonna die on me… I-I th-thought he—"

"Mom," Scott's voice broke as he listened to her cry; as he listened to her beat herself up for all this. "You can't do this to yourself, you have to—"

"Scott stop!" Melissa broke out, she pushed back out of the chair unexpectedly. She looked up at her son, and raised her hands up; a signal she was done hearing his comfort words. "jus-just stop… okay?" Her tone softened quickly and the alpha swiftly backed off. He swore he's never seen his own mother like this before.

"I-I promised her…" She said softly shutting her eyes in the process. "S-she made me promise I would take care o-of him…" Melissa began her hands trembling in midair—she was starting to lose control over emotions, and all she could see was Stiles laying there on that trauma table, bloody and cold.

"God damn it! I promised…" She shouted trying to desperately hold on to reality and keep herself in check, after all her son was standing right before her. How could she do this with him here. "Y-you need t-to go Scott, please." She pleaded. But Scott shook his head, that was the last thing he was ever going to do. "No—no way." And he took a step towards her. "Who? Wh-what are you talking about mom?" He then continued.

It took Melissa a moment but she answered him. "Claudia, h-his mother. I promised her I would take care of him—th-that I would never let anything happen to him," She swallowed uneasily as she ran a nervous hand through her hair. "a-and this mo-morning he was laying dead, in my trau-ama room." She uncontrollably blurted out the last part of that sentence in disbelieve, hoping to not once more relive those moments when she thought she would have to tell the Sheriff, who had already lost his wife, his son was dead.

Scott studied her for a moment, she was nervous wreck. Her hair was now a tangled mess, her eyes blood shot red, a unstable shake ran through her body as she talked. The sight of her brought tears to his eyes. He had never seen this side of his mother before—nor did he want to. And he hated it—he hated standing there being completely helpless. This woman was the farthest thing he's ever seen from his mother, and watching her like this only brought panic upon himself.

His mother; the strong, brave, proud, built of stone woman, who he looked up to so dearly and loved unconditionally was not the woman standing before him.

"W-what kind of mother am I? T-that's my kid—I-I was supposed to…" But she was lost for words. And that was when she looked up at her son for the first time they entered that room. "I-m sorry, oh god honey… I-I just don—" But Scott cut her off by wrapping his strong protective arms around her, making her feel safe for a little while.

"Th-this morning h-he was laying dead in my trauma room." She repeated subconsciously as she was calming down and facing her problems. "He's not dead." Scott whispered. "He's not dead,"

"but you can't do this to yourself mom, no one saw this coming. There was nothing anyone could do… okay?" He explained softly. Melissa just nodded and was reaching a state of calmness, before the alarm on her pager cried out. She quickly let go of Scott and grabbed it from her scrub top.

Her blood instantly ran cold as she read what it said:

STILINSKI ICU 11, 911

"What is it?" Scott asked noticing the recent spike in his mom's heartbeat and the color drain from her face. But before she had any time to answer she bolted out the door, her eyes crazed and filled with utter panic as she ran, Scott right behind her.

…

The steam rolled out of the bathroom as Lydia opened the door back to her bedroom, towel wrapped tight around her figure, hoping Allison would have come back by now with food. She didn't realize it until now but she was starving.

"H-hey." A voice who absolutely did not belong to Allison rang out.

"Stiles jeez!" Lydia cried out, tightening the her grip on the towel covering her, as any girl would when a guy shows up unannounced in their room and they are partially naked. Stiles was sitting on the edge of her bed, elbows on knees, head in hands waiting patiently.

Stiles watched her for a moment, completely taken by her appearance, he was awestruck; his lips slightly parted, eyes fixed on her figure. There she stood, beauty queen of only seventeen, a plum towel wrapped around her frame, revealing her exposed her bare collar bone and angel sculpted shoulders. Her big green doe eyes staring at him in a mixture of surprise, relief and confusion. He had to inhale deeply because for a minute, it was like he forgot to breathe. All he wanted was to reach out, wrap his arms around her, and take in her intoxicating aroma. Even dripping wet, with no make up as the small pieces of her soaked long hair stuck to the sides of her face, she was like an exotic, beautiful, captivating, creature to him.

"W-what are you doing here?" The strawberry blond quickly asked as she walked to her dresser and pulled out some clothes. The boy quickly changed his posture, snapped out of the trance her presence had him in, and shrugged. "I don't know, I'm bored—"

"Stiles, you should be at the hospital." She said turing back to him, a few pieces of clothing now draped over her arm. Stiles looked down at his feet for a few moments trying to figure out how to put his words together and explain his reasoning behind being there.

"I… I-I can't—" He took a breath and began once more.

"I can't just sit there and watch my father deteriorate, alright? I just can't." The atmosphere in the room quickly thickened, and Lydia froze upon hearing his words. She gave him a small nod, knowing he was utterly upset, but just didn't show it. "Okay," The girl exhaled and remained standing there, dripping wet, it was an obvious signal for him to get out and let her change but being the goof he was, he didn't realize it.

"Um, can you… get out for a second?" She asked approaching him. "Kinda need to change." She explained. Stiles quickly came to his senses and scrambled off the bed. But before he made his way toward the door, he stopped nearly a few inches in front of her.

Their eyes meet and he swallowed uneasily mesmerized by her stormy green eyes. Their faces now, yet again, inches apart. But this time, it him who made the move. Lydia studied his compelling features for few seconds analyzing every mole on the sides of his face with an entranced expression. Time seemed to stop when they did this, and the temperature in the room seemed to rise.

"I-I have to change." Lydia let out subconsciously, the same scratchy pitch taking over her voice reminding him he needed to leave. As she tilled her head in the opposite direction, just the way he liked it. Stiles nodded, and a witty smile then took over his face. "I really want to kiss you right now." He let out subliminally. "But I can't." He then exhaled, leaning his forehead against her's in defeat.

"I know." Lydia swallowed and closed her eyes, just letting herself feel his warm skin against hers; the feeling was lolling to her, she could remain that way forever. Lydia then focused on the feel his finger softly run down her arm, his other one wrapped around the back of her waist pulling her closer to him.

"How do you know I can't see through the walls?" He scoffed a chuckle as a smile spread across his lips. Lydia exhaled a snicker and looked up at him. "Can you see through the walls Stiles?" She asked in amusement.

Stiles played with a smirk on his face as he let out a "No… but I wish I could." He exhaled against her ear as he then slowly broken them apart and continued to make his was out the door.

Lydia remained there, biting her lip, her heart beating a thousand miles per hour against her chest. She didn't know someone could ever make her feel so turned on given the circumstances. She just stood there for a few moments, even before he left—in this deep transfixed thought. This almost fantasy.

"Stiles, you can come back in." Lydia spoke as she pulled her other jean jacket over her back. She turned around waiting for the door to swing open, but nothing happened. Maybe he didn't hear me? She thought as she pulled her now partially wet hair into an simple flawless bun. "Stiles?" She called out tying her hair up as she walked towards the door in slight confusion.

God, where is Allison with that food?

She swung the door open, just as her hands rested against the side of her body, expecting to find a daydreaming Stiles. But what she saw before her was far from that.

Stiles stood there, with the same twisted expression on his face from the day was shot. Panic flashed across his eyes as he breathing progressively labored. Confusion ran through her bones as she watched him for a couple seconds. "Stiles?" She asked.

"Stiles, what's wrong?"

The boy stumbled through the door of her room and in some sort of heaving war between himself. "I-I don't know." He struggled out, shutting his eyes in attempt to take control of his body. Lydia paced after him, fear filled her heart as she heard him. Something always had to be wrong, their lives wouldn't be their's if it didn't. "I-I can't breathe…"

"W-what do you mean?!" She shouted guiding him towards her bed and forcing him to sit down. He didn't fight her he just went with as he shook his head intently. His heart was racing wildly and out of control. "I-I don't know… I-I can feel something…" He let out trying to put together into words to express what he felt.

"C-cold." He panted, his hands desperately holding onto the upper half of his chest. "Gah, is it supposed to feel like this?" He now shouted in utter pain.

Lydia's heart began to race once more, and this time for the worst. Tear's threatened to escape her eyes, but she forced the back and tired to collect herself, tried to stay calm. But her logical thinking tanked as soon as she laid her eyes on the hand he was using to support himself. It was like a flickering light, it was there once second and gone the next.

Her eye's widened and she began to get hysterical. Lydia blinked once, twice. But every time she opened her eyes she was met with the harsh reality.

"St-stiles… y-your h-and." She cried out. Horror spread throughout her body like wild fire. Stiles looked down at his hand—his arm was still here, fully functional and all, but right after his wrist his hand was tingling and beginning to fade. "O-oh my—w-what's happening to me?" He asked, fear started to form around the lining of his heart not yet reaching his brain to let him fully process what was going on. "O-oh… go-d…" He exhaled deeply trying to get a sense of composure of his breathing.

And as he rose his shaky hand up to his face, it hit him. "I'm dying." The sentence came out as smooth as butter. There was no struggle no hesitance; only absolute certainty.

That's why I feel thing strange pulling sensation… He quickly thought before turning to Lydia, but she just shook her head in denial. "No, no. You are not dying Stiles." She swallowed uneasily not believing in the words that came out of her mouth. Stiles, not wanting to scare her anymore nodded. "O-okay, I-I'm not. I'm just…" He didn't know what else to say. He was scared out of his mind in that moment, but his only job was to reassure Lydia it was going to be okay.

Even if it wasn't.

Lydia wasn't stupid, she knew Stiles didn't believe her false comfort. But she didn't know what else to say—what else to do. He was sitting there in some state of utter shock almost as if he was accepting this. And she was terrified, terrified she was going to loose him forever.

"Ple-ease Stiles stay with me." She cried reaching out for his other hand. Stiles nodded abruptly. "I-I'm trying." This was not a lie, he was struggling and fighting to grasp reality but it was slowly getting harder and harder. "W-what are you feeling?" She asked in attempt to continue to talk to him.

Stiles shook his head in confusion. "l-like something is pulling me…" He trailed off in a strawberry blond nodded trying to act okay even though in side her panic radar was far from set off. "O-okay… just—just focus on me, focus on my voice Stiles, okay? Just listen to my voice and do-n't leave me." She struggled out. Stiles nodded, shutting his eyes now because his vision was turning into a messy blob of blur.

"Stay with me…" Lydia mumbled out faintly, she didn't realize he had heard her, but he had.

"Ye-yeah, I will." He replied trying desperately to clam down and take control of his actions.

"I'm gonna grab you some water." Lydia said, hoping somehow it'll help him. Stiles nodded and before she felt, he tightened his grip on her hand. "K-kay." The strawberry blond then immediately rushed to the bathroom in her room and grabbed a cup, quickly filling it with water.

It was only about ten seconds later when she paced back into her room. But it was ten seconds too late, for as she entered it, it was empty. She stopped in the doorway as the realization and panic dawned on her. "Stiles?" She asked barely a whimper.

But he was gone.

…

"What's going on!?" Lydia demanded rushing towards the closed door to Stiles' room, Allison step behind her. As soon as the tall dark-haired girl made it back to the house with two styrofoam tray's filled with Chinese food, Lydia, without explaining, grabbed her and her keys, ignoring her best friends shout of disagreement.

Scott, and John were standing outside waiting anxious for any news on Stiles. "What happened?" She continued, pushing back tears. But she all she received were empty blank stares, and wordless stammers. "Scott?" Allison frowned in confusion, her words leave everyone hanging. "I-I don't know…" Scott revealed. "I was with my mom when she got paged—sh-she didn't even bother telling what—she just ran and I followed her." He explained honestly as he ran his trembling fingers through the mess of his hair.

Then all eyes shot to the Sheriff, as he stood there in disbelief, trying to process everything all at once. But the overwhelming silence and glances were only leaving him completely terrified. That was his kid in there—and he had no idea what was going on.

Scott quickly noticed his uneasiness and placed a supportive hand on his shoulder, trying hard to block the voices that were coming out of Stiles' room. He didn't want to hear it—in the beginning he had, welcoming his werewolf senses to listen and to try to get a grip on what was happening. But what he heard only made it worse.

"I-It came out of nowhere, e-everything was fine a-and then it wasn't." John mumbled incoherently.

Lydia soaked his words in like a sponge, slowly but fully, noting that her experiences were that same. Stiles' was literally fine—well, as fine as he could be in that state he was, then out of nowhere he was beginning to disappear—vanish before her eyes. She knew she should never get the look on his face in that moment out of her head even if she tried.

He was so terrified—so scared, so human. But of course being Stiles, he made an attempt—a horrible one, one might say, but an attempt to hide his fear, and play it of with jokes. However she saw right through it and tried to hopelessly to make sense of everything—tried to use her knowledge of logic to help somehow, but once again she was useless.

And as she stood there in some state of shock, watching him fade—watching him disappear, she thought about how logic had failed her once more.

Lydia stood there in the hall of the hospital, feeling the weight of the gravity pull on her, making her center line up to the earth. She knew she had to tell someone what she saw—what had happened. But who? Her eyes scanned the bodies who stood before her, and she quickly analyzed them. John was defiantly out of the question, Scott was busily trying to comfort the Sheriff back to his senses, and Allison, who stood right beside her would have very little insight on this, sure she'd be of great support and all but, she wouldn't be of any actual help—and now that Lydia thought about it. None of them would.

At least none of them here. But there was one person who might be of some help.

Deaton.

…

Melissa slid out of the door, her eyes pleading with despair and horror, but she didn't say dare a word, she only met John's hopeful, kicked puppy gaze. "Mom," It was Scott who first broke the tension filled silence. Melissa glanced at her son polity before addressing John.

"Tell me." The Sheriff pleaded.

Melissa nodded just as Dr. Allen walked out of the room as well. Everyone quickly turned to face her, they all held express-less gazes filled with concern and horror.

Dr. Allen cleared her throat before she began, hope to few bonus seconds would give her more time to figure out a way to put everything into words. "Unfortunately the situation…" She swallowed uneasily and watched as the group surround themselves around her and started once more, ref razing her sentence. "I'm afraid, Stiles' condition has worsened," She began, letting it sink. "Just keep in mind that even before this, his oxygen levels were concerning so it was not a big surprise to me when he stopped breathing." She said bluntly.

John's blood ran cold as the words made impact against his the barrier of his understanding.

"We don't know what caused it yet, but we suspect he may have a pulmonary embolism," Dr. Allen watched as the Sheriffs face fell, he as he looked to Melissa for guidance, he had no idea what this all meant. "I-it's a blood clot in the lung," Melissa explained trying hard to keep her emotions in check. "We have him on a respirator, um, that is breathing for him right now…" Dr. Allen continued. "You'll notice it's a tube that's running down his throat. Um, I'll order a few more tests to clarify that it is a pulmonary embolism, and if it is, then I'm afraid we'll have to take him back to surgery." She ended.

John swallowed uneasily and nodded trying to process the newly given information and deal with it. But it was hard, it was so god damn hard to just stand there and keep it together, and pretend like he's fine when all he wanted to do was scream and blame for all that has happened. But he couldn't do that, it would get him nowhere, and he wouldn't allow the people around him to see him like that.

But that didn't mean he didn't want to fall apart.

The Sheriff nodded and cleared his throat, it had been a while since he spoke in an audible tone. "W-what does this mean for him?"

Dr. Allen inhaled and them spoke after a moment of thinking. "We'll know more after the tests come in John." There was nothing else she could to provide him with. She knew as much as he did when it came to the fate of his son. And that was all she left him with before she walked away and got back to the rest of her doctorly duties.

John nodded, his eyes glancing at the floor for a minute before he shut them close trying to hide away the tears that threatened to escape.

He couldn't do this. Not again.

It took him a moment as he re-collected himself before he looked up and addressed everyone. "I-I need a few moments with my son, if you please." He mumbled. Everyone obviously understood the reasoning behind this, it didn't mean they like it, but what more could they do? Of course they gave the man his wish and remained outside as he opened the door and vanished behind it.

The moment he lay eyes on his son laying there, so helpless, so vulnerable, with that thick tube snaking his way into his mouth was when he completely lost it. John didn't fight the tears he kept to himself for so long, he just let them all out as he grabbed a seat by his son's bedside. The Sheriff shamelessly sobbed as he sat down an further examined his boy from a closer perspective. He didn't know what to do, to say. How to comfort him.

Stiles was always a stubborn kid, he fought for what he believed in, he drew extensive hard hitting research, and calculated proof behind almost every single one of his actions. But laying there, defenseless and impotent, John swore he's never seen anything so heartbreaking.

The feeling of failure fed his emotions as he watched Stiles. John only thought of how the police—how he, had failed his son. How he failed to protect him, to find him. How he failed as a parent, as a father.

"St-il-es," He cried, but it came out barely a whisper. "Oh g-god…" He placed his hand on his son's arm and continued to shed his endless stream of tears. "I-I am so sorry son—oh god." He could barely speak, and he quickly realized it was hard to form words in such a distressed state. What did he have to say? That he was sorry, that he wished this was all a nightmare? That his wife would've been devastated if she were still alive?

John sniffed and whipped aimlessly at his tears now staring back into the face of his son with tenderness. "You're a stubborn kid… a strong stubborn kid. You just keep fighting okay?" The Sheriff continued trying to pull himself together, and stop crying. He knew Stiles would hate to see him like this.

"Just keep fighting Stiles… don't leave me, don't you dare leave me too." He swallowed, as the thought of his late wife only brought more tears to his eyes; to think only a few years ago was he in the same exact place, only instead of his son laying on hospital bed it was his wife. "If you see your mom, tell her...tell her to send you back to me—god damn it Stiles… tell h-her t-that I need y-ou." His voice broke as he continued, and a fresh set of tears overcame his emotions.

"Tell her I need my son."

Outside, without trying, Scott heard every heartbreaking little detail. And he stood there trying to piece together the feelings—the emotions Stiles' father was feeling in that moment, as tears ran down his face. Only he couldn't, he could only imagine.

…

It was unearthing; watching him like that. The world felt still in a sense; unnatural, like the balance had somehow been disturbed. Like the earth it knew knew something was not right.

And something was defiantly not right.

Lydia swallowed uneasily as she sat on the sext next to his bedside. The world was catching up to her now and slowly without really thinking about it, she was realizing the of direness of the situation— how critical, and crucial everything now stood. When ghost Stiles—or whatever he was, was there, when she could see him, in a way, everything was okay. But a part of her knew it was just her mind playing tricks on her once more, the illusion of Stiles, real or not, made her feel safe, okay. But now he's gone, and everything is not okay. He disappeared, right before her eyes—he vanished. It wasn't like she'd lost the ability to see him, he was gone. And that's what scared her the most.

"Okay Stiles," Lydia exhaled sharply, looking down at the boy that lay still in the hospital bed with her big doe eyes that were filled with fear and utter panic.

"You can't do this anymore okay..?" She continued though the confidence instilled in her was slipping by the second. "I-I don't know what you were, o-or how that was even possible, but now its time to quit playing games... okay?" And then suddenly, strawberry blond felt like she was talking to herself. She was all alone. "Stiles?" She said in a whimper after a moment of no response.

But nothing, simply nothing. Lydia martin never thought she'd see a day where she was itching for something witty and sarcastic to come out of Stiles Stilinski's mouth but there they were, and she was getting more inpatient by the second.

She then slightly shook his arm hoping it'll somehow help—but then stopped realizing how illogical and strange it was. He was in a coma. He wasn't going to wake if she shook him... what has gotten into her? Lydia, now standing up, took a step back from the bed, her hand trembled lightly as she tore it away from his arm. The information spread through her body like wild fire... she didn't understand why, but a wave of sudden emotions flooded throughout her, paralyzing her still for a moment. She couldn't look at him any longer, so she set her eyes on the floor beneath her feet; searching for a place to ground herself, but failing.

She was so desperate, so terrified, that it was taking a toll on her mental behalf... making her think irrationally. She wasn't Lydia... at least she wasn't thinking like Lydia.

Without realizing it, she was slowly going crazy.

But who could blame her? The amount of PTSD she had from the traumatic events in her short seventeen years of life was horrific. But watching Stiles die in her arms, was nothing like before... the feeling of his warm slippery blood through the gaps beneath her fingers... she would never be clean again. Watching the life fade from his eyes... she would never look at them the same. The feel of his his muscles relaxed against her body as he drew in his last breathes... she could never feel the same again.

He died protecting her, and it seriously made her think about a few things. Like how she's ever really noticed him till Jackson had left, like how he'd been there for her countless times and she didn't even realize... like how he loved her from afar. She suddenly felt extremely guilty; not worthy of sitting there before him.

Stiles was different; to some people different meant bad, but to Lydia, it was a good thing. In fact that was what she loved about him most. He wasn't like most guys, who only saw her for who she portrayed herself to be on the outside, stylish, put together dummy, queen bee; this object. No, Stiles was smart, he saw way her beyond the makeup and the intimidating attitude. Hell, he saw her even when she didn't think anyone was looking.

And that was what made him different.

But it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he decided to show up when ever he pleased, though Lydia didn't really think of it like that—it was just how she felt. Her emotions were beginning to take toll on her, rather than her use of logic. She shouldn't be surprised though, this is what Stiles did to her. Her feelings always pulled ahead whenever she was around him, and she couldn't explain it... which of course, only drove her nuts trying to control it.

He's someone she can't fool, he's someone she can't easily manipulate and bend to her desire, at least not anymore, and she likes that.

Lydia takes her seat back after calming herself down once more, and although she tries to relax, she can't. Yesterday, she was calm; when she could talk to him and see him. But after tonight—after letting her guard down, she could not unwind.

Everything was not okay.

Everything was falling apart.

And she just couldn't calm herself anymore, every moment was filled a mixture of anticipation and utter panic. She's never felt this way before and she has no idea how to respond—how to react. "God damn it Stiles!" She curses in frustration as she snaps back into utter reality. "Y-You can't just do this... appear whenever you please, vanish when times get rough... come on." She begs as she takes her seat back and gently but hesitantly grabs his hand into her. "C-convince me I wasn't crazy... convince me I wasn't seeing things..." She pleaded in anguish, waiting for something-anything.

But as usual, nothing happened.

"Convince me…" Lydia swallowed once more, taking his features in. She took a breath and extended her hand to brush the sides of his expressionless face.

swish. The respirator made. She hated the noise, it only reminded her of their dire situation and how bad it had gotten-how lifeless he lay.

Everyday John was there, sitting by his bedside; never leaving the room only for the occasional bathroom use. And everyday Lydia watched as the light in his eyes grew dimmer. It was one thing to watch his wife fade before his eyes, but his son as well? "He'll be okay." Lydia whispered as she turned to the Sheriff. She sounded so sure, so confident, and she has no reason too. There isn't really any prove or logical sense to her statement, but she says it anyway. Its a feeling. A strong, sure feeling that she chooses to believe more than anything.

And if Stiles had ever taught her anything, its to trust her gut—trust her instinct.

…

Stiles slowly peeled his eyes open though every ounce in his broken body told him differently. He didn't care—he just wanted to get out of this nightmare and move on with his life. If he were to even have one after all this.

He felt weightless, and a little drowsy as a matter of fact. Everything at first was blurry and a shade of blinding white light, but after a few moments they adjusted and he saw the real image. If he were to call it that. There wasn't much of anything now that he saw.

There was nothing around him. He was standing in the center of immense pureness—a blank canvas—a empty space. "What? I don't even get to see my life flash before my eyes? Or is that just some myth?" He mumbled to himself as he walked around trying to figure out where exactly he was.

"We'll see." A soft gentle caring voice spoke out behind him.

He knew that voice—knew it all too well, or he thought he did; he wasn't sure. It had taunted him in his nightmare for years. Stiles snapped his head to the direction he heard it from and found the silhouette of a person standing there. A woman approaching him.

His expression dropped, his heart raced—and this sense of complete shock and joy ran throughout him at the same time.

"M-mom?" He choked out.

A thousand silhouettes dancing on my chest
No matter where I sleep, you are haunting me

...

Okay, so I have to apologize for my like several months delay. I have no excuse, only good news, and a surpirse-they are the same thing though? I don't know, anyway... considering that i love writing this and all, and you guys seem to like it... it's gonna be more than four chapters! Don't freak, it doesn't end here, I'll have the fifth part up soon! Yay? I hope? Haha, okay. I hope you liked it! Please review cause It brings a smile to my face! :) Oh and if you have a tumblr follow me, I post a bunch of TW stuff on Ohsnapitzcari . tumblr . com

Chapter inspired by the song Silhouettes -Of Monsters And Men (Disclaimer: I don't own it, nor do I own Teen Wolf, obv.)

Alrighty one more time, the more reviews the quicker the update, reading these just makes my inspiration grow! :)

-C